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Title: The Black
Lotus
Author: Claire
Warner
Genre:
Historical Romance with a paranormal twist
....though
I would dearly love to play court to you, I would hurt you more than any
other.”
It is 1752. The year that will change the life of heiress Melissa De Vire. As she makes her first steps into society, she meets Justin Lestrade and his world tears her perceptions apart. Drawn irresistibly to him, she finds herself sinking into a realm of feuds, magic and old curses.
It is 1752. The year that will change the life of heiress Melissa De Vire. As she makes her first steps into society, she meets Justin Lestrade and his world tears her perceptions apart. Drawn irresistibly to him, she finds herself sinking into a realm of feuds, magic and old curses.
By day I am a
boring civil servant, but by night (and at weekends) I write stories. I love
fiction, I love the way that words can draw you from your own everyday
world.I love to read. As a child I read all of the Enid Blyton books and devoured Roald Dahl. As a teenager, I discovered LJ Smith, Anne McCaffrey, Tamora Pierce, David Eddings and went through the phase of reading Point Horrors. As an adult, I found Kelley Armstrong, Raymond E Feist, Georgette Heyer, The Brontes, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, Sheridan La Fanu and Henry James. I cannot imagine live without books.
Links
http://www.nook.com/gb/ebooks/the-black-lotus-by-claire-warner/2940149779789
http://nightflowers.weebly.com/
http://nightflowers.weebly.com/
Book Excerpts
Excerpt #1
15th
June 1752
The floor was cold. This first impression
floated through her mind as the deep dark of unconsciousness began to shift
from her. The unyielding surface sent small stabs of pain through her limbs and
confusion set in. Why was she slumped on a hard floor? Her head felt heavy and
somehow hollow, even though the darkness that clouded her vision had slowly
begun to recede. She managed to blink, the mundane task rendered difficult by
the lassitude swamping her. As she struggled closer to full awareness, she
became aware of something clasped in her hand, something smooth with petals.
Despite her temporary lack of memory, its presence between her fingers sparked
a wary, almost sick sensation of worry.
"I think she's waking up."
A voice, feminine and vaguely familiar, sounded
close to her head. She tried to move, to turn her head to stare at the speaker,
yet her body refused to cooperate, still caught in the spell of near insensibility.
“Yes, I can see that.” Another voice, male this
time and disapproving, spoke from further away. “You need not sound so
thrilled; I doubt she will welcome you when she opens her eyes.
“Oh, Hugh darling, how can you say that?”
Petulant yet teasing notes flowed through the woman’s light lilting speech and
she longed to see the face that it belonged to. Those tones
invoked cautious recognition, a recognition which did not bring her any sense
of peace.
“Because it is the truth,” The man moved
position, coming closer to her prone figure. “Why on earth did you do it?” The
voice dropped lower, becoming accusatory in tone and timbre. She wondered at
this, struggling with tattered threads of memory that refused to make sense.
“It solved a problem.”
“I beg to differ,” He was standing over her
now; she could feel the tips of his toes against her side. “Do you think that
Justin will thank you?”
Justin, that name caught at her mind, dragging
it free from the sludge her mind had become. She knew that name and the
feelings it provoked were soft and wondrous. Once again the memories fluttered
close to the surface yet she was still not awake enough to make sense of it all
“He
should,” The voice argued, louder and less teasing than before, “This solves
all,” She felt the woman move, the edge of a skirt brushed against her side and
she wondered how long they were going to stand and argue over her.
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